


A Little Bit Better

by teztrash (teztime)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gags, M/M, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4970092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teztime/pseuds/teztrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heroic rescues are just the start of getting better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 50% aw. 50% aw yeah. 100% fluff. This part is all sweet; the next part is all smut.
> 
> Thanks always to betas who catch my dumbs: Saosmash and Rozzingit. This fic by request for a tru bro who put up with me going 'Rodimus/Megatron tho' and encouraged me to write robots doing the clang.

"Okay, Swerve, you can do this."

Swerve stood alone in the hallway outside of the bar. The lights were dark. Some people standing alone in the dark might hesitate to talk to themselves. Not Swerve: he kept going.

"It's _your_ bar. That's _your_ name on the door."

Swerve had been released from medical earlier. On instinct, he'd headed for his hab suite only to flinch away when he got to the door. His lines twisted and the energon in his tank soured as he thought about going back inside. No.

His shoulder was fine. There was nothing wrong with it. All he had left was a lingering memory of pain.

"You don't want people to start going to _"Visages"_ , do you?"

He had other memories, too. Those were the problem.

Swerve wasn't sure what to think about what had happened. Rodimus called it _Swearth_. He was never going to shake that. That name was going to follow him. Everything he was, externalized and rendered down to a thin plotline, unbelievable characters, ridiculous sight gags, and a laugh track. Swerve told a lot of jokes, but he really hated feeling like one.

Sure, everyone trooped over, crawled around, solved the mystery, and saved the day, but here Swerve was, standing alone outside his bar, and the only thing to fill the silence was the running of his own mouth. The adventure was over, but Swerve was still here. His shoulder had been fixed, but the rest wasn't so easy.

"The name's stupid. It will make people stupid. The whole crew will turn so dumb they'll make Ten look like a genius if you don't get in there and open that bar."

It was this or nothing. He didn't want to go back to his hab suite. Swerve had seen a lot of his hab suite lately.

Well, to be honest, he hadn't really _seen_ it. When he hadn't been projecting, he'd been recharging. He'd barely stirred from his berth. His room was a mess: empty energon cubes stacked on top of junk heaped over more empty energon cubes.

He didn't care.

Distantly, Swerve was aware that he should. Maybe it was the bar that should make him flinch, but the bar was noise and light and laughter. The bar was people, even if it wasn't always friends. Only now it was dark.

"There will be a riot. They'll blame you, Swerve."

Nothing. Swerve just couldn't move.

"Hey! Swerve!"

Jolting at the sound of Skids's voice, Swerve looked up to find Skids's long legs eating through the distance between them at an easy lope. Swerve scrambled to the door, flinging it open and bolting through and into the bar.

"Open for business again?" Skids said, following in after him. The lights flicked on in response to the movement. 

"Yeah, that's right. Open for business!" Swerve hustled for the safety of the bar and slid behind it.

Skids took a seat, facing him, and smiled. He always smiled. Swerve loved the way he smiled. Watching Skids, he felt a gear slip. His spark ached.

Swerve smiled back. "Grand reopening. First drink's free. By which I mean this drink, right now, no one else. What'll you have?"

"Make it a Brawn." Skids leaned forward, elbows on the bar, and watched as Swerve prepared the drink.

It was strange being behind the bar in his own metal. The holomatter avatars were great, but they hadn't gotten touch quite right. Swerve had enough practice with it that he could tend bar with the best, but now--

Swerve lifted a short glass to start making the drink, but the glass felt wrong. It was too heavy, and he was struck by a formless anxiety and went still. He couldn't even remember what it felt like to lift a glass on his own!

Swerve startled when Skids reached over the bar to pull the glass from his hand and set it down. "You okay?"

Swerve stared up at Skids. Skids had an open, honest face. It was as though, along with everything else, he'd forgotten how to hide what he was feeling -- or he was brave enough that he just didn't care. Swerve didn't know how to be that kind of brave. Skids looked worried, worried for Swerve, and that was almost too much to think about.

"What? I'm fine!" Swerve pulled a few bottles without looking closely and slammed together a drink to slide it to Skids. "Yeah, you know. Just adjusting to things, ha ha." His laughter was hollow enough to make a laugh track sound genuine. "Feels kind of funny, being here. I mean, actually being here, not just sending my holo over to sling drinks, ha ha."

Skids watched him without saying anything. He lifted the glass to take a sip. He barely wet his lips before sputtering. Swerve got his hands up just in time to avoid a full-face spray of liquid as Skids spat out the drink. " _What_ did you put in that?"

Swerve panicked. What _had_ he put in that? He glanced at the bottles out of place and immediately identified triple-distilled engex, a sweet, acidic liqueur, and -- oh no. Cleaning solvent.

"Poisoning customers," Swerve moaned, snatching the glass to dump it out. "Not my finest hour." He wiped down his hands with the hasty swipe of a rag. "Not my finest day either, though, is it? Or week, or weeks -- hey! Months! If you really want to get picky--"

"Swerve."

"--but it's all just a little weird, you know? Like it's been months, and -- sure, I've been down here, but _I_ haven't been _down here_ , you know? So even though I know where everything is--"

"Swerve!"

"--it's still just off. I think my avatar was a little taller than I am, too. I can't believe that. How depressing. I'm even shorter than I thought--"

Skids reached across the bar and grabbed him by the shoulder. He was careful to grab the uninjured shoulder, but Swerve still tensed. Skids's hand was a warm weight against the wheel. "Hey, you want to downshift a couple?"

Swerve drooped. He leaned helplessly into the touch. Skids stood to reach across the bar and dropped his arm across Swerve's shoulders. Quiet filled the air between them.

"I was actually looking for you," Skids said.

Glancing up, Swerve asked, "Not just checking to see if the bar was open?"

Skids smiled, but even Swerve could see the guilt in it. "No."

"Well, you found me! Pretty smart, looking here," Swerve said, horribly aware that his mouth was continuing on without any input from the rest of him. "Not like I wanted to go back to my hab suite. Had enough of that, ha ha!"

Skids glanced toward the door, then settled back in his chair. "Hey, let's talk a sec, okay?"

Swerve felt his nerves shred and anxiety tip toward panic. His vocal processor locked in his throat. With numb fingers, he reached to dry Skids's glass.

It wasn't that he thought Skids was going to tear him up or anything. It was concern in Skids's gaze, nothing malicious. It was just that Skids wanted to talk, and for someone who talked so much, there were few things Swerve dreaded more than the idea of _talking_. Especially with -- everything. He'd rather face the DJD.

So as he cleaned, Swerve stood stiff and silent. His transformation seams were locked down tight and his armoring slicked close to his frame.

Skids looked at him with sympathy. He was mercifully quick to begin: "I'm sorry. I haven't been a very good friend to you, and I'd like to be a better one."

That was not what Swerve expected. He twitched, looking up.

Skids's smile was gentle. He reached across the bar and set his hand next to Swerve with his palm up. He crooked his fingers in a question.

Swerve looked at Skids's hand uncertainly. The offer was obvious. Skids set his hand out for Swerve to take it, if he wanted to.

Swerve did, and he didn't. He liked Skids. Everyone liked Skids. It was impossible not to. Swerve could more easily imagine a world where Ultra Magnus made messes for fun than a world where Skids went unliked.

But Swerve _really_ liked Skids. He had from the moment that they first met. And Skids liked _everyone_. It was part of his charm.

He even liked Swerve. Not a lot of people did. They laughed and then they left, and he closed up the bar on his own, and let his avatar fade, and plugged in to recharge back in his empty hab suite. But Skids _liked everyone_. It wasn't the same.

Of course Swerve wanted to take Skids's hand. But--.

Skids curled his fingers back and started to pull his arm away. Swerve's hand, without any further input from the rest of him, reached to grab it.

Skids's smile broke over Swerve like sunshine. "Okay. Swerve, just let me say something. You don't have to say anything." Swerve relaxed minutely, and Skids squeezed his hand. "You mean a lot to me. More than I realized. So much for being a super-learner, right? Judging from the fact that you haven't said a word since I asked to talk, maybe you don't want to. Maybe not now, maybe not ever. And that's okay."

Swerve's throat clicked as his vocal processor unfroze. "Really?"

"Yeah. To all of it." Skids looked at Swerve thoughtfully. "I've taken you for granted, and if you need some time, or want to talk to someone else, that's okay. I haven't been a great friend."

Swerve opened his mouth to argue only to pause as Skids squeezed his hand again.

"I just want to say that I'm sorry, and that I'm going to try to be better. Okay?"

Swerve looked at Skids uncertainly, then smiled. His smile felt unsteady, but his voice was even as he said, "Okay."

"So!" Skids slid out of his seat, pulling Swerve after him. "Why don't you come show me how to fix a drink that's not half poison?"

"That was an accident!" Swerve howled in outrage. Skids moved around to join him behind the bar, and Swerve was riveted by the fact that Skids hadn't let go of his hand.

Eventually -- reluctantly -- he reclaimed his hand from Skids to pick up the cocktail shaker.

The two of them made up a new drink. Swerve decided he'd call it a Shot in the Arm, and launched into the story of his shoulder, the bullet, and the video that they found on it. Skids found it all very fascinating.

Skids stuck around after that story, too. Others joined, drawn by the light and sound, to greet Swerve with warm welcomes. Sometimes it was awkward -- Whirl was notably ... Whirl, shouting, "Glad to see you aren't rusting in your own filth anymore!" -- but Skids was never far.

When Swerve finally closed the bar for the night, Skids stayed behind to help him clean, and then walked him to his hab suite.

When they got there, Swerve paused outside the door. The warmth which had carried him through the hours vanished in a sudden spike of anxiety. His hab suite was a _mess_ , and why was Skids even here? He looked up at Skids with the first flares of panic sparking at the edge of his visor.

Skids just squeezed Swerve's shoulder. "Hey, you ever gone fishing?"

"Fishing?" asked Swerve.

"Yeah, Getaway swears by it. How about tomorrow, after the bar closes, we head to the reservoir and I show you?"

Swerve's gaze steadied and he slowly smiled. "Sure."

"Great!" Skids rocked a moment on his heels. His gaze dipped to Swerve's mouth and then rose again, and his smile widened. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Skids loped off down the hallway, leaving Swerve alone again -- but this time, for the first time in a long time, Swerve found himself looking forward to tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think of this more as a bonus scene than a strict continuation of the last chapter. A bonus scene that is 50% longer.
> 
> This is the part that my enabler _actually_ wanted when he asked for Swerve/Skids.

Skids loved the way that Swerve would come undone beneath him. He talked -- he always talked, it was his thing -- and the closer he got to overloading, the filthier he would get.

Skids would be drinking with the others, watching Swerve tend the bar, and remember something that Swerve had said days or weeks before. Heat would flush through his lines and he'd lose track of the thread of conversation -- sometimes right in the middle of saying something. Riptide teased him for a week the first time it happened.

Skids loved it, but Swerve didn't. He would bite down on his fingers or turn his face away into a pillow. He was always embarrassed afterwards, and while Skids enjoyed holding him until Swerve felt okay enough to laugh about it, he hated thinking that Swerve didn't enjoy their time together.

"I keep telling him I like it!" Skids insisted to Getaway one shift after a night spent tangled with Swerve.

Getaway watched him with a smile narrowing his eyes. "Yeah, but it's not about you, is it? Fear not, friend! I have an idea."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes! Just leave it to me," Getaway said. "Me and our brainy buddies."

Thus it was the end of their shift found Skids with his face buried in his hands as Getaway explained his idea to a too-enthusiastic Brainstorm and Nautica.

It wasn't like it was a secret that he and Swerve were together: it was _Swerve_ so basically _everyone knew_. People on Cybertron knew. People on yet-undiscovered colonies knew. Protomechanical lifeforms knew.

Skids just wasn't sure that his friends needed this level of _detail_.

He swore Brainstorm and Nautica first to secrecy, then made Brainstorm promise not to weaponize it. They agreed to the first readily; Brainstorm acquiesced to the second reluctantly.

Several days later, Getaway placed a placed a small box in Skids's hands and sent him out the door with a bomp to the chin. "You two have fun, now."

Skids ducked his head and moved quickly through the halls to Swerve's hab suite. Two hours, a bottle of engex, and some enthusiastic groping later, Skids had nearly forgotten about the box. It wasn't until Swerve slapped his hands over his mouth to cut off a, "--can't wait to get your big spike in my hands--" that he remembered.

"Scoot back a second, would you?" Skids asked with a smile.

Swerve slipped off of Skids's lap and dropped onto the couch next to him. He dragged his hands over his face like he could hide by covering his visor. "That's it. I have officially killed the romance."

Skids leaned over with a laugh to press a kiss to the top of Swerve's head, and pulled the box from a compartment. "Actually, I had a present for you. I mean -- if you want it."

Skids thumbed open the box. A flexible black strap with simple fastenings lay inside the box. There was a hint of circuitry built in to the strap, and a line of red along the length of it that matched Swerve's paint. It didn't look like much.

"O--kay?" Swerve leaned forward to look. "That's Brainstorm's handwriting, isn't it? I can't even read it."

"Oh, no." Skids pulled the box with a start. He hadn't noticed, and he dreaded what Brainstorm might have written.

Skids was getting better at reading Brainstorm's handwriting. It only took him half a minute to make out 'Silence is Golden'.

While he tried to read it, Swerve was speaking, of course: "That is way too boring looking to deserve this amount of attention, unless it does something really inventive. Which -- if _Brainstorm_ made that, is probably true. And I'm just now realizing that you've got Brainstorm in the business of making, what, sex toys?" Swerve leaned away as though the box might explode, which was not an unreasonable reaction.

"It's a gag," Skids said suddenly, flustered.

They sat awkwardly in sudden silence.

Then Swerve's gaze lit with enthusiasm. "How is _that_ a _gag_?"

Skids relaxed. "I don't know," he admitted. "Brainstorm said all you had to do is put it on and the rest would take care of itself.

"It was Getaway's idea," Skids added, compelled to honesty. He watched Swerve carefully, to see if it bothered him that Skids had talked to the others, but Swerve didn't seem to care. He just reached for the strap.

"So how do you think it goes on?" Swerve asked.

Skids held his hand out. "May I?"

Swerve handed the strap back to Skids and then looked up at him. The readiness of his smile and the trust in his gaze made Skids's ventilations stutter.

Skids draped the strap between his hands with the ends looped over his thumbs. He curled his fingers to brush his knuckles along Swerve's cheeks, and then tipped Swerve's head up. He loved kissing Swerve. Even Skids could admit that Swerve could be abrasive, but he kissed with an openness that took Skids's breath away. With his thumbs, he smoothed the strap around Swerve's throat, and then secured it in back.

Leaning back, Skids asked, "So? How's it feel?"

Swerve opened his mouth. The red line on the strap flickered, sparking to life. From Swerve's open mouth came only the sigh of his fans. Swerve's eyes widened behind their visor, gaze sparking brighter. The red light quickened and steadied, and Swerve's vents opened in a sudden click.

A bolt of uncertainty curdled the pleasure in Skids's tanks. What if Swerve didn't like it? What if he couldn't even say so? He hastily undid the catch and pulled off the strap.

Swerve's voice switched on right in the middle of a moan, instantly becoming a groan of disappointment, "--nooo, it stopped! Skids! Put it back on! That was amazing!"

Skids laughed. "Let's talk about it, first."

"Oh, yes, let's talk about the thing that makes me not talk, great idea," Swerve said.

His sarcasm bounced right off of Skids's smile. "Yeah, that's the plan. You liked it?"

"I loved it. It was like -- like when I tried to say something, or make a noise, it pulled the energy right out of my vocal synthesizer and sent it to my spark." Swerve looked enraptured. "And I don't mean that metaphorically! There were tingles, Skids. Tingles!"

"Brainstorm did say something about redirecting energy, but I was kind of too busy trying not to die of embarrassment to really listen," Skids admitted.

Swerve blinked, resetting his optics in obvious surprise. "What, you?"

"Getaway can get a little carried away, sometimes," Skids said. "I should probably just be glad that there weren't chains, a collar, and a spreader bar involved."

"Uh." Swerve blinked up at Skids. He hooked a finger on the strap in Skids's hand and pulled. "Skids? I hate to break this to you, but it's kind of a collar."

"It's a gag."

"Oh, because that's so much better! It's a gag-collar!"

Skids felt his face heat. He must have been silent too long because Swerve swarmed up on his lap to cover his face in kisses. A few moments later, they were both laughing, and Swerve drew back to say, "I like it, okay? And if I need to stop or anything, I'll -- I don't know, thump you twice."

Skids rubbed his fingers along Swerve's wheel well. "You sure I'll feel it?" he teased.

"Think you're so tough just because you're some kind of badass superspy. Yes, you'll feel it." Swerve leaned into the stroke of Skids's hand. "Put it back on?"

Skids nuzzled the top of Swerve's head, resecuring the ... collar. Fine, it was a collar.

As the red light warmed to a vibrant glow again, Swerve all but vibrated in Skids's lap. Skids laughed, scooping him up and carrying him to the bed. The memory of carrying Swerve's battered frame into the medibay faded just a little more as Skids laid in another, better memory of the way Swerve fit in his arms.

"Kind of miss hearing you talk right now," Skids admitted as they settled in.

Swerve lay on his back beneath Skids. He'd talked -- loudly, at length -- about how much he loved it that Skids was so much bigger than him, how he loved being under Skids. Now he just grinned up at Skids, while the collar at his throat shone.

Skids got a charge out of it too. It was easy to forget how short Swerve was what with how big his mouth was. Now, leaning over Swerve, Skids felt massive, powerful.

Light played over the red band on the collar, suggesting the words that Swerve couldn't speak. The only noise from him was the whir of his ventilation systems and the tsch-chue of a transformation in hips.

Skids knelt between Swerve's legs and lifted him by the thighs. Swerve's legs parted, and he needed every extra inch that transformation gave him to get his legs around Skids's waist. Swerve rolled his shoulders urgently along the covers to push their interface panels flush with a click-clank of heated metal. 

Skids laughed. "Right. Message received, loud and clear." He brushed his thumb over the Autobot symbol on Swerve's groin. Sometimes he liked imagining the look Ultra Magnus would give them if he ever caught Skids licking it open.

This time, Swerve transformed the plates back before he could do more than think about it.

Swerve's spike, already partly pressurized, was a thick thing of red and black, while the valve beneath was slick with lubricant. Swerve thrust impatiently into the stroke of Skids's hand as he brushed along the sides of Swerve's interface panel and into the joints of his hips.

"What's that?" Skids teased. "Couldn't quite hear you." The collar flickered. "Take my time? Sure. I can do that." The light of the collar flared, eating Swerve's words.

Skids dug the tips of his fingers beneath the armoring that shielded Swerve's thighs. A rush of energy pricked the tips of his fingers as he ran them along sensitive wires. "This is kind of nice, actually." He curled his fingers, drawing them along the armoring and lighting up sensors under the edge. "I do miss hearing how much you love it when I touch you." Swerve threw back his head and squirmed. Breath rushed from his parted lips. "But I almost don't need to hear you when I can see you."

Skids finally allowed his interface equipment to online. The red paneling folded _swiftly_ back. His spike pressurized in a slide against Swerve's valve. Skids rocked his hips, spreading the lubricant along his spike in a long, indulgent slide. The soft, wet heat of Swerve's valve made his fuel pump race. Swerve grabbed for Skids's hips, but Skids intercepted his hands and laced their fingers together. "Let me. You still doing okay?"

Swerve gave Skids an incredulous look. The light at his throat leapt in a bright flare as some loud sound was reduced to electric impulses; the bolt to the spark sent Swerve arching against Skids's spike.

Skids laughed, leaning forward. He brought their hands together to rest over Swerve's head. "Nod," he suggested, "or shake your head."

Swerve nodded _enthusiastically_.

"Okay."

Skids shifted, taking both of Swerve's hands in one so that he could free his other hand. Skids sat back, bringing his hand down Swerve's frame. He slipped his fingers along the inner edge of Swerve's wheel and along his transformation seams. Swerve rolled his head back, visor bright. His fingers tightened in their grip on Skids's hand.

In the quiet, the low purl of Swerve's engine jumped to a startled rev as Skids mapped the transformation seams over his spark with a series of light strokes. "Sounds to me like you liked that," Skids said. "We should talk about that some time. I'd love seeing your sweet little spark." He brought his hand flat over Swerve's chest, pressing back against the first click of a transformation. "Shh, no. Not today."

Skids soothed any sting of rejection by rolling his hips forward. His spike slid along Swerve's valve again, slipping against the folds and becoming wet with lubricants. Skids almost envied Swerve whatever the collar was doing for him: he was obscenely slick, wet and more than ready. "Today I want you, just like this. I love listening to you. Maybe this time you can listen to me."

The light at Swerve's throat was near-constant, as his unending chatter reached his vocal processor and was rerouted. Every now and then, the light would flare brighter. It flared now. Swerve's spike twitched with interest against the base of Skids's palm as he rubbed his hand lower across Swerve's abdomen.

"Okay," Skids said. "Sounds like we're all on board." 

Skids dragged his knuckles along the edge of Swerve's valve, just barely parting the folds to slick his hand. "It's hard not to just spike you right now." Skids's voice was thick with static. The heat of Swerve's thighs wrapped around him was pushing his self-control. Swerve was always earnest and unashamed in this. There was an honesty in him that drove Skids crazy. "You're already so, so wet."

Swerve writhed, bucking with his hips and trying to catch the head of Skids's spike.

Skids grinned. "Not yet." He circled the node above Swerve's valve once, twice just to listen to Swerve's engine stutter and stall, then dragged his lubricant-slicked hand up to grab their spikes. He brought them together for a couple of easy strokes. "I love how eager you are. Always something new, you know?"

It was one of the things that Skids loved about Swerve. He wasn't used to being caught by surprise; this, _Swerve_ , had surprised him.

And there was so much still to learn about Swerve's body. While Skids knew that Swerve loved the way that Skids could just wrap his whole fist around his spike, the way they both reacted to the sound of it was a surprise. The gentle rasp of metal on metal was softened and made filthy by the wet slide of lubricant. It was a noise that was usually buried beneath Swerve's chatter. Now it was loud in their audials. Skids's breath caught, fans stalling; Swerve arched, his gaze pleading.

Skids had big plans. He was going to really draw it out. He was going to fill Swerve's thoughts with the sounds of their bodies and the hum of his voice, until that's all Swerve could hear, until all he could think or focus on was _him_. Skids was going to drive Swerve right to the edge until they were both a shaking wreck--.

He'd just miscalculated how soon it would take to get to that point.

Swerve's thighs quivered around his waist.

Skids huffed, then reached for him. "Yeah, you're right. Come here." He released Swerve's hands and lifted him by the shoulders, pulling him close. Swerve ran his hands greedily over Skids's chest, then leaned to nuzzle his headlights. The lights flickered as Swerve teased charge into Skids's lines. The light of the collar lit the white of Swerve's chest, blushing it red.

Skids rested his hands on Swerve's hips as Swerve wriggled and writhed, trying to catch the head of his spike. The first time, Skids's spike slipped. Skids laughed, and Swerve huffed voicelessly as his fans vented.

The second time, Skids reached to help guide his spike. He parted the lips of Swerve's valve with a long stroke along the slit, then nudged the head of his spike past the first tight stretch of Swerve's valve rim.

They came together and then they rested, just barely joined. Skids took the weight of Swerve's body in his arms, and Swerve rested his hands in a tight grasp on Skids's arms.

Swerve's optics blazed behind the band of his visor. The collar was incandescent.

This was Swerve's favorite part. This was where his words spilled from his lips, ragged and desperate, as he pushed the limit of his frame. Sometimes Skids would tease him with his hands, but Swerve always begged for his spike.

It was a tight fit, every time. Fragging Swerve left Skids feeling like a metrotitan.

The first time they tried this, Skids had been afraid it wouldn't work, but Swerve was convinced. He was right. It just took time to let Swerve's valve map the required adjustments and make the transformations. In that time, Swerve would let loose with a flood of obscenity as his valve stretched to take Skids's spike.

With the gag in place, all Swerve could do was hang on desperately as the collar channeled a flood of fresh electricity to his spark and his body strained hungrily to take Skids in.

With the last shift of transforming plates deep within Swerve's hips, gravity was free to pull to pull their thighs flush, slicked by the liquid flow of lubrication. Skids could see the sob of pleasure on Swerve's lips as he threw his head back, even if the collar robbed him of his voice.

Skids bent his head, brushing a passing kiss over Swerve's forehead, and then took hold of his hips. Skids licked his lips, and then tried to speak only for his first words to break in static.

Swerve startled, bringing his gaze to meet Skids's eyes.

Skids tried again: "You look so amazing like this. Stretched around me." He dropped his hand to feel the heat where their frames came together. His fingers splayed around his spike, and the back of his knuckles rubbed up against Swerve's node.

Swerve trembled as he rocked against Skids's hands with increasing desperation. The snug grip of his valve on Skids's spike sent ripples over their frames. Overload took Swerve first: electricity crackled over his frame in a beautiful silence. His thighs quivered with the twitch of electricity plucking at his motor relays.

As Swerve slumped, Skids reached to lift his chin. Holding his gaze, Skids rocked to thrust into him. The snug grip, rippling along the length of his spike, meant he never lasted long. It took only a few deep thrusts for Skids to follow Swerve over the edge as his charge ground itself in Swerve's frame.

Swerve curled closer when Skids went to pull back, keeping their frames joined as they cooled. When Skids reached for the collar, Swerve took his hands. The light still sparkled as various words died in his throat.

Finally, Swerve reached back to release the collar, and his voice returned right at the start of a, "--was amazing. Holy Primus, Skids. I just wanted to ride you until my frame gave out."

Swerve buried his head against Skids's chest -- not in embarrassment, but nuzzling, covering his headlights and bumpers with kisses. Seeing Swerve warm in the glow of post-overload relaxation -- _without_ the shame, _without_ the embarrassment -- was worth everything to Skids. He could handle a little embarrassment in front of his friends.

"So, good experiment?" Skids laughed.

Swerve leaned back to look up at Skids with his visor a brilliant glow. "I wouldn't expect a non-scientist like you to know--" And Skids snorted, but let Swerve have that one. "--but any good experiment deserves _repetition_. Let's grab a cube, then try again."

Skids gathered Swerve in his arms to press a kiss to his lips, then murmured, "That sounds good to me."


End file.
